Stigmatize
by alloveryou
Summary: I don't remember it much. My earliest human memory is a blur. Faint and distorted, but a memory all the same. I was four and it was Christmas Eve. Alice POV
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Ok so i know the book says she doesn't remember a thing about her human life but please, bear with me. Its short for now. I'm sorry but i'm tired. More to come, i promise. _

_As always, i don't own twilight._

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I don't remember it much. Although, to be honest with you, I don't know how I feel about that. Rose feels that what she has become, what we all have become, has destroyed her. She would give anything to go back. From the little pieces I do remember I would give anything _not_ to go back.

My earliest human memory is a blur. Faint and distorted, but a memory all the same. I was four and it was Christmas Eve. At a time when society was divided between two groups, the "haves" and the "have-nots," my lovely parents were among the… I guess you would say luckier of the two?

Christmas was always a big deal in our family. Being the devoted Roman Catholic household that we were, my blessed family was sitting around the table praying our usual dinner time prayer.

The next thing I remember, I was in my bed with my mother close beside me and I suddenly possessed a strange feeling that something awful was going to happen. I recall asking my mother if Santa was a nice man. Everything that I have learned in the past led me to believe he was a saint but still, this strange, overwhelming feeling consumed me. I remember at that moment, abruptly feeling deathly afraid of a fire. I've never seen an untamed fire before , but still, the feeling engulfed me. At that I wondered aloud if Santa could start the fire.

"What did you just say honey?" my mother asked me, clearly interested now. But my four year old mind only wondered what was wrong with my mother's hearing. So I repeated.

I saw my mothers face freeze for a second before she quickly dismissed the subject in her head. She tucked me in, then retreated down the long hall to her room.

The next thing I remember was waking up starring into the golden blue flames burning from the front of my house and retreating. I heard a scream and rapidly turned around to see my mother glaring at me with that same expression she had before, in my bedroom, but this time it lasted a whole lot longer.

"What are you?" she choked up. Before either of us could say another word however, my father came running down the stairs, scooped me into his arms, grabbed my mother's hand and flew out the door.

After that I don't remember a time my mother even looked at me.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So I know it's been way over a year and I know I've only had two comments on it this past year and a half but I've kind of been brought back into the world of fan fiction. I've had this done for almost two weeks now, edited and ready to go and then my friend died on the 17th and I haven't been in anywhere near the right state of mind to write an author's note explaining myself. I'm so sorry EliseShaw, you were a beyond amazing Beta and so fast, I'm sorry to make it seem like I wasn't following through on my part. These past two weeks have been the worst I've ever had to deal with but I'm hoping that this will give me somewhat of an outlet. Pretty please review!

RIP LL

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I could hear my parents arguing from my nook hidden deep inside my perfectly decorated bedroom, as much as my mother despised me, she wasn't about to tarnish any room of her flawless house. They were, of course, oblivious to the fact that I could hear which made my analysis of the war between them that much more efficient. In the six years since that fateful first "episode," as we now referred to it, this exact fight between the adults in my household had become a normal occurrence. The fact that my mother always came up with different and more bizarre excuses never altered my father's final and constant decision and for that I was grateful. Whatever else happened, I would not be sent away.

After the first few times I became extremely gifted at hiding my "episodes," never asking for explanations of my dreadful curse. Though as much as I tried every so often one would slip or the confusion would be too strong, leaving my childhood mind chaotic and afraid. The scared little girl in me would openly question it with the only people I trusted, my parents, which of course only further complicated the occurrences in my life.

My mother wanted nothing to do with me, making excuses when company was over pertaining to the reason I was locked up in my room, never admitting her true motivation: that she was afraid that I would slip again and her friends would finally realize that she had a freak for a daughter.

The next human memory that I can even begin to make out in my head was the day I was admitted into the hell hole that I would eventually recognize as the ending place for my first life. I recall specifically the rain and the cold. The look in my father's eyes when the person hired to accompany me on the train arrived will be forever burned in my memory. I don't remember my mother even being there, I believe she had long sense given up on me. I was told I was going on a trip to get help, that my "episodes" would cease by the time I came back. Little did I know, they never planned on bringing me back. It was 1913 and I was twelve years old. It was the first time ever stepping foot out of my home town of Biloxi, Mississippi.

My parents talked about the "Burckhardt Facility," as they referred to it, like it was a resort. They said it was brand new, built only six years prior and not yet even completed. They claimed it to be a magical place, a place to help me. They said it was beautiful with plenty of children to play with. What I found it to be was nothing like I had expected. The place I was taken to was Hell in Mississippi.

When I arrived, I was told that the children's ward was not yet finished so I would have to make due living amongst the women. I was instructed to strip down to my undergarments and take my long dark hair out of its perfect braid. I was taken into a room and shown a table where I could place my belongings. There was a man in the room with what looked to be a razor and scissors. Before I knew it, my beautiful long black hair was on the ground, my head left shiny and bald with a plain white cap where my hair used to be. I was given a simple white dress and equally bleak black shoes to replace my favorite ankle length dress with the lace trim and I was taken to a room where they inserted a long needle into my arm and I quickly blacked out.

The next thing I remember was being shaken awake in a big dark room, as screams echoed from above me. As my eyes adjusted I could see more than a hundred occupied beds; the ones against the four walls were bunked. As my mind came to, I realized the women above me was in hysteria, streaming and jolting as several people in white outfits came to take her away. Two men held her down while a stout little woman in a white dress and cap inserted a needle I recognized from my personal ordeal earlier into her thigh. Within seconds she fell limp into the arms of the two men restraining her. She never came back to her bed and I never saw her again.

A woman in the next bed on my right took pity on me. She said her name was Hanna and that I reminded her of her daughter at home. She was sweet with extremely short dark brown hair peeking its way through her scalp. She looked as if she was in her early thirties and I imagined she would be considered quite beautiful in any other setting. I wondered silently why such a nice woman would leave her young daughter but before I could voice my concern she offered out her arms in a mute gesture of companionship and security that I truly needed and would not risk by my silly questions. That was the first of many nights I fell asleep in her arms.

The next morning I was woken up before the sun even shone through the murky barred windows by a loud, very obnoxious bell and was ordered into a long single file line. Hanna took grabbed my shoulders in her loving hands and led me into the procession where we waited over an hour until finally coming upon a small window aligned with several heavy metal bars. The woman behind the window presented me with a tiny paper cup filled with five different colored pills and another one filled with murky water. I looked up at Hanna, wondering what they could possibly expect me to do with the five massive pills and the cloud of white liquid in my cup.

"Just take it, honey, they will only get angry if you don't." I remember gulping down the liquid so fast the heavy pills barely escaped being lodged in my throat.

When I was finished, Hanna helped me through to another long hall. On one side was a long slot in the wall where women inserted their bowls which were returned with a small scoop of some kind of mush, in the middle of the room was several long, overcrowded tables. A few people lingered on the floor looking deranged while others sat on their benches muttering to themselves. At the far end of the room I heard more screams. I clutched to Hanna's dress and watched as a man kicked a woman on the floor with his hard boot. The screaming lasted less than a minute before she was dragged off by two other men, the familiar stout nurse desperately looking for a place to stick her wretched needle. As she was hauled out of the room I took one glance at the man with the heavy boot from around Hanna's pale dress and noticed a look of triumph on his face. I memorized his form, his hair, and his boot. I caught him glancing at me with his brown beady eyes. I made a resolution then to avoid those eyes at all cost. Little did I know, my acknowledged fear would only heighten his little game over the next few years.


End file.
